


Orphic

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst and Feels, Drama, F/M, Gen, Goodbye and thanks for all the tears, Goodbyes, Set after Glenn's death in 7x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 23:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10774437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: He blinked and the red was gone.





	Orphic

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: Set after Glenn's death in 7x01.
> 
> Warnings: afterlife type situation, drama, angst, basically my way of saying goodbye.

" _Maggie, I-I'll find you..."_

" _Ah, hell...I can see this is hard on you guys. I am sorry. I truly am. But I did say it. No exceptions!"_

* * *

He blinked and the red was gone.

In fact, everything was gone.

He was alone in an endless blank space with nothing but sand and sky underneath his feet.

_Wait, what?_

His bare toes curled, feeling the contrasting grit against the uneven callouses that had formed across his soles ever since the end of things. That was familiar, at least. He squinted, trying to see beyond the next set of dunes. Feeling the wind against his face as he looked around, trying to figure out where he was.

_He'd been in a clearing._

_Knees aching in the dirt._

_The glint of metal._

_Sweat stringing from his hair._

_The acrid tart of blood._

_The gleam of the moonlight off polished wood._

_Someone had been crying._

_Maggie?_

He looked down, realizing for the first time that he was wearing something unfamiliar. Something he knew he hadn't been wearing before. The details were slipping away, unimportant, but somehow he knew that much. He patted down to his hips, thumbing the material like he could tell where it was from by touch alone. A white button up shirt and tan slacks, with a thin black belt and- _no..._ it wasn't unfamiliar at all! He reached up, thumbing the gelled part in his hair that was still slightly damp. Swearing he could even smell the faint lilt of cheap aftershave and dryer lint as a small smile broke ground across his face.

He'd worn the same outfit to dinner the last Christmas he spent at his parents before going to college. The one where his mother had actually teared up in the kitchen with a dirty spatula in hand and called him handsome. His sister had called him a dork and rolled her eyes. His father had just chuckled, arms crossed over his chest at the head of the table as he tried and failed to avoid his eomma's determined kiss on the cheek. Eyes proud as his college acceptation letter - now starting to curl around the edges - remained in its place of honor on the fridge.

He looked down at his feet again and realized there were footsteps in the sand. Faded and dimpled like a hundred thousand people – maybe more - had passed this way. He turned in a loose circle, caught off guard by how effortless it was. It was like the rules of gravity didn't apply here, at least not quite. Feeling almost _too_ light as his hands came up – realizing he could actually feel the jumble of molecules giving way around his fingers. Feeling the inhale and exhale of something far bigger than just the sky and sand around him as his toes curled into the soft sand. Anchoring himself to the moment as the wind slowly smoothed the footsteps of those who'd come before.

He blinked into the gentle glare. Something niggling like a distant concern before the deep outline of fresh footsteps caught his eye. _Wait, what? Had someone just been this way? Maybe they knew what was going on?_ He straightened, squinting off into the direction they were headed. Certain he could see who made them if he could just-

The first step towards the horizon was the hardest. Fighting the feeling that he was leaving something behind. Something precious. Something that tugged at the center of his chest, insistent- but in a distant sort of way. Something he wouldn't be able to come back for later.

_This was a one-way trip._

That was the only thing he knew for certain.

The second step was easier. It hummed through him, gently electric as the gradual absence of sound started to trickle on. Reminding him of something he'd already forgotten. A moment not that long ago where he'd been surrounded in noise. _Screams_. The echo of violent footsteps beating into his flesh. The slow hush of water in his ears- _no_ , something thicker. Something-

By the third step he'd forgotten why he still had muscles that wanted to hesitate. Every inch of him steeped in the sense that this - moving vaguely forward through a sea of shifting dunes - was _exactly_ where he needed to be.

The fourth step pulled a small smile from him. Filled with a growing sense of well-being as a familiar figure gradually took shape ahead of him. Knowing the glint of short red hair anywhere as he lengthened his stride. Feeling the connection deepen the same moment Abraham turned, sending him a half-hearted salute from across the dunes. Looking for all the world like he hadn't expected anything less.

Abraham's arm was heavy on his shoulder when he caught up with him. Heavy like he was the only thing in a thousand miles that was real. He took a moment to take it in. Wondering if he was imagining it when the man's lips crooked up in a low-lying grin. Letting himself be blinded as the medals of a dress uniform he didn't recognize glinted pleasantly in the blended light. He looked down at himself, then back to Abraham again. The difference seemed important- almost self-made. Leaving him with the impression that if he really wanted he could close his eyes and end up wearing his old hat, sneakers and baseball jersey again.

_It was a strange feeling._

_The idea of going back to the beginning._

"I had a feeling," Abraham murmured, shaking his head. Somehow managing to get across everything else left unsaid as he looked him up and down before nodding. "Walk with me for awhile? I don't have as far as you, but my stop is still a ways off."

He nodded. Not questioning how Abraham knew as the man added his footsteps beside three others - one large, the other two smaller. Walking beside them with a resting smile - sad but anticipatory. And for a long moment, he wondered about those three sets of prints. He wondered who they'd belonged to and why the cut of Abraham's shadow against the sand had started to fade around the edges. Wisping lighter and lighter as-

"You see them yet?" Abraham asked. Looking over at him decades - or maybe only minutes - later. Gesturing at the prints he was following before casting his hand over to the sand in front of his feet like the question needed no other explanation. A worn wedding band glinting burnished gold on his ring finger.

He shook his head. Looking intently at the sand in front of him.

It was domed with the outlines of a hundred thousand feet - maybe more - but none that he recognized.

None that stood out.

_Not yet._

"You will," Abraham replied simply. Nodding again as the tread of his thick, black leather boots wallowed in the deep sand. Getting half-buried in the softness before emerging again. A rhythm that was repeated until he could hear the grains of sand rasping across the polished leather tops. "Give it time and you'll see them."

He breathed deep. Realizing in a slow-moving rush – like old continents shifting - that he hadn't even thought about looking back. The concept wasn't just foreign, it was almost forbidden. It wasn't the way. He knew that now. But it was more than that. Somehow he knew, if he did turn back, nothing would be there. Not even the sand. That part of the journey was over for them. _For him._ That was why the rest was slowly fading away.

It was only them, the horizon and an unspoken promise now.

**Author's Note:**

> Reference:
> 
> \- orphic: (adj.) beyond ordinary understanding
> 
> \- eomma: Korean word for "mum."


End file.
